


Always Here To Help A Brother

by HMSquared



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunkenness, Episode Related, Episode: s06e08 Cuckoo's Nest, First Kiss, Hangover, Helping out, M/M, Sensory Based, Sensory Deprivation, Vomiting, criminal informant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 16:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18553474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/HMSquared
Summary: Terrence risks everything to save Flack, something the drunk detective is very grateful for.





	Always Here To Help A Brother

**Author's Note:**

> I've started watching CSI: NY again (still don't understand the method to Netflix's show removal madness), and I decided to begin my adventure into this fandom with what is probably the first time I ever shipped someone. This story is as close to the original scene as possible, which I highly recommend you watch since the acting is incredible.
> 
> Terrence is one of those minor characters I liked a lot, and when he saved Flack...well, as I said, I started shipping them in that scene before I even knew what shipping was. Funnily enough, I don't ship them in other contexts. Just this scene.
> 
> Enjoy!

The subway doors opened, and the three guys stepped into the empty subway car. From his spot on a bench, Flack glanced up at them. The leader's bottom lip curled, and he muttered something to one of his friends. In his drunken state, the detective didn't hear a word, nor did his danger receptors kick in when the three men surrounded him. He just smiled at them like an idiot.

A hand reached into his right pocket and grabbed his wallet, the motion sending Flack to the floor. One of the goons felt along his back, found his gun, then tossed it aside. The leader started rooting around for money, glancing at Flack every few seconds.

There was a guy in front of him. Flack barely registered his right foot going out in a surprisingly powerful kick, sending the other goon to the floor. The leader's eyes briefly widened, but he said nothing. It was deathly quiet in the train car.

The door behind Flack slid open. His eyes rolled back into his head, blocking out all light. He heard the sound of his gun being picked up, the words getting lost in his ears. All he registered was his wallet falling on top of his chest, the train stopping, and the sound of running footsteps.

A pair of hands helped him sit up. Pulling him forward, they yanked a hoodie onto his arms; the hood draped over his head. A faint voice Flack didn't recognize quietly told him everything was going to be alright. Then the hands grabbed him by the armpits and pulled him to his feet.

Flack's right arm was draped over a hard surface, probably someone's shoulder. A hand was squeezed on his back to keep him upright, and they were off, leaving the train and the subway itself. Even though he couldn't see, he felt the sun wash over him when they broke through the surface.

They were moving quickly through the streets. A couple of times they braked to a stop, swerving into corners and causing Flack's shoulder to hit a brick wall. The voice apologized both times, waiting a few seconds before walking again, clinging to him.

"Stay with me, Flack. We're almost there, buddy."  _ Stay with me?  _ Flack thought.  _ Am I dying?  _ (He wasn't.)

He heard a gate open and shut, and they stopped. The figure carrying him leaned over and whispered,

"I'm going to get you up these stairs, but you need to be quiet. Don't let your feet smack into the steps." Flack didn't understand at first, but when his shoes hit the bottom steps with a loud thump, he bent his knees. It was smooth sailing the rest of the way.

A door closed behind him, and he was tossed onto a sofa, though not in a threatening manner. Settling into the leather, Flack pushed off his hood, not registering much. He heard the sound of his gun being set down; once again, not threatening in either action or interpretation.

The hands were back, patting his right leg. His phone was grabbed, and then a palm was pressed to his forehead. Air hit his neck, but the lips creating it didn't touch him. That was the last thing Flack registered before slipping into actual unconsciousness.

 

He woke up 45 minutes later, head and sides splitting in pain. Noticing his legs had been propped up onto the sofa, Flack rolled over and saw there was a note at his bedside.

_ Bathroom's the door across from you. _

Flack barely had time to figure the words out before his stomach heaved. Springing to his feet, he bolted across the floor and pulled a door open. There was a toilet, and he barely had time to kick the door closed before barfing.

Eventually, after five minutes of barfing, the alcohol left his system. Shakily getting to his feet, Flack glanced at the mirror and winced. There was a nasty gash on his head from where he had fallen and, grabbing a towel, he began to wipe the blood away. As he did so, the detective pulled up his shirt and let out a pained hiss when he saw his bruised sides. That explained the pain.

After the blood was gone, Flack looked at his reflection and sighed. He looked tired, hungover, and the man in the mirror was barely recognizable. Splashing cold water on his face, he shook his head. What had he become?

Hanging the towel back up, Flack left the bathroom. He didn't recognize the apartment he was in, but after a few seconds, his question was answered.

"How you feeling?" Terrence stepped into view, and Flack smirked.

"You look tired, Terrence."

"I had to drag your miserable ass across New York, cut me some slack." Before he could comment on the pun, Flack gagged, causing Terrence to hand over a cup. "I managed to find a box of lemon tea. Should help with your head." Nodding, he plopped onto the sofa and sucked down the tea, trying to process everything that had happened.

"When's Mac coming?" Terrence chuckled sharply.

"I told him you're safe for the time being. Do you think you'll be able to find your way back?" Flack nodded, setting down the cup.

"Yeah. Thanks for the tea." Getting to his feet, Flack grabbed his gun and phone, putting them in their proper places. Then, turning, he looked at Terrence and sighed.

"What?"

"Just..." Words failed him. "Thank you, Terrence. I know this wasn't easy." Terrence cracked a grin.

"Always here to help a brother." He placed a hand on Flack's shoulder and lightly squeezed. Smiling, Flack leaned forward and quickly kissed him, pulling away almost instantly.

"I'll go out the back way." Then, shooting Terrence one last smile, he headed out down the fire escape, leaving the CI in peace.

Terrence watched him go in light disbelief. Raising a hand to his lips, he scoffed in surprise. Maybe he had a soft spot for the detective after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment!


End file.
